The Marriage of True Minds: Age of Edward OneShot
by AngryBadgerGirl
Summary: This one-shot is an entry in the Age of Edward contest. It's Austenward! The story takes place in Regency England, circa 1810. Bella enters an arranged marriage to avoid poverty. Can she find love despite the circumstances? M FOR JUICY OLDY TIME LEMON!


**Age of Edward Contest  
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**Title: The Marriage of True Minds**

**Ty****pe of Edward:** **Regency Edward (England, circa 1810)**

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I don't own Twilight, just a time machine.**

"And they lived happily ever after," I said with a smile to my beautiful granddaughter, her bright green eyes smiling up at me.

"Oh Nana, do please tell it again, please," she begged, her little face looking so eager and earnest. I recognized that pleading pout immediately. I was an expert at it, after all. I'd seen it many, many times, but on a man's face—a man that I missed so very much.

I adjusted the ruffles on her sweet little cotton nightcap and tucked her more tightly under the covers of her bed.

"Alright then, but you must promise to try and sleep," I urged with a soft voice.

"I promise," she replied, her impish smile tugging at my heart.

"Once upon a time, there lived a young lady…" I said. I didn't get very far before she was already asleep. Nonetheless, my mind drifted back many, many years ago.

_And so began my tale…the very one that wasn't from a storybook, but from my own youth…_

"Isabella, you shall be married in two fortnights and I'll not hear another word of it!" my mother snapped. "Mr. Swan, will you please talk sense into your daughter's stubborn head? She's tested my nerves for the last time." And with that, my mother stomped out of the room, leaving my father and me to talk at the dinner table alone.

"Dearest girl," my father began with a warm smile. "Your mother's agitation isn't so much the result of your behavior but of the circumstances we find ourselves in. You do understand that, don't you?"

I nodded as a single tear rolled down my face. I hadn't cried in front of anyone since I was a little girl. I only cried now because I was with my father. I'd never weep in front of anyone else, save my mother.

"Now, now, there's no call for tears," he said in a soft voice, patting the back of my hand. "Bella, you've always been a high spirited, quick-witted girl. But you also possess a considerable amount of reason, and it is with that reasonable girl that I beg an audience with right now, child," he asks, his tone contrite.

"Of course, Papa," I whispered, my head bowed down.

"You are my only child, a daughter. I've no brothers or nephews. You're well aware of the predicament this places us in. After I'm gone, you and your mother would have to rely on the kindness of distant relatives just to keep a roof over your heads, never mind having any sort of allowance. I simply cannot imagine a worse situation for both of you," he explained.

"Please Isabella, trust that I've made a decision that will allow me to sleep peacefully at night and go to my grave feeling I'd provided for you," he beseeched.

"Yes, Papa," I submitted in a small voice. "But you're asking me to marry a complete stranger," I added through fast tears.

"You'll meet him soon enough. When he asked that I visit his estate, he was most cordial and he struck me as a man of great intellect, having studied medicine at Oxford as his father had. He has all manner of ideas for improving the crops and the upkeep of the livestock. He comes from an impeccable family line, quite an honorable one. I've known of his father for many years and we'd met occasionally now and again in London."

I simply nodded my head. I knew what I had to do. I had to think of my mother's welfare if nothing else. I wasn't afraid of the prospect of being penniless, of acquiring genteel work as a governess or a schoolteacher. But that wouldn't earn enough of a wage to support my mother as well.

There was a new master at the estate directly adjoining ours, and a marriage between this man and myself would render onto to him every last possession of my father's once he passed. This meant that this man would have the largest estate in the county, and easily make him the richest landowner as well.

This was the only logical option. My father had already seen to all the details concerning my dowry; and it was agreed upon that my mother could live in our home for the rest of her life after my father was gone, and she'd even be given an allowance to live on.

I drew a deep breath and sighed. I thought to myself that perhaps I was cursed. I should've been born a man. None of this would've mattered. My father wouldn't have had to make any sort of arrangement for me. The estate would be mine and would stay in my family. I could marry whomever I chose. As a woman, I was hapless, vulnerable. I detested it.

"When do I get to meet him?" I asked. I was curious to know what he looked like in the very least. If I had any luck at all, he'd find me so hideous that he'd suddenly refuse and I'd be free of this.

"I've invited him for dinner tomorrow. I shall give him a tour of the grounds first," my father replied.

"Very well," I said, trying to remain outwardly calm when the mere thought of meeting this man made my heart race.

That night I could hardly sleep. I pored over my books until the candle at my bedside burned itself out. I finally drifted off but slept quite fitfully. The rising sun on my face assured that I would get no real rest.

The day dragged on despite the flurry of activity around me. Mother was eager to make a favorable impression on this gentleman and insisted the servants prepare an ample meal served on our best china and linens. The whole house was cleaned from top to bottom.

After having a long soak in the tub and indulging my mother by wearing my finest dress, I sat in my bedroom window, reading a book. My room faced the front walkway and long paved drive. Soon I heard horses approaching and lifted my gaze to take a look. It was a fine coach, definitely one made for someone wealthy enough to pay for it. It was black with a silver trim I'd never even seen before—like the color of the stars on a clear summer night. I noticed a family coat of arms on the side, no doubt the one belonging to the gentleman about to visit.

As a figure emerged, I strained to get a better look. He was quite tall with long legs and generous shoulders, I could see that much. I blushed at how eager I was to see the rest of him, as what I'd seen so far made me curious to an inappropriate and unladylike degree. His hair was a rich brownish red color and the waning sun of the late afternoon brought out all its different shades and tones. A smile crept across my face; it reminded me of autumn and my birthday in September—my favorite time of year when the foliage changed color.

I drifted into my daydream and failed to notice him looking up and straight at me. He was smirking at my bold staring. I came to my senses, utterly mortified and scurried away from the window, hiding behind the curtain. I waited, counting to twenty. When I looked again, there he remained, in the exact spot as before. This time, when he saw me again he didn't just smirk but gave me a wide, knowing grin. He knew exactly why I was looking at him. I'd just made an embarrassment of myself in front a man I hadn't even met yet. I felt a wicked heat radiating from my face.

_I'd ended this before it even started_, I thought with a heavy sigh.

I sat stock still on my bed for the better part of an hour. I tried reading as another hour crept past, but the words swam around the page as I looked at it. My father must have come back from showing our visitor the estate because three different servants came to fetch me from my bedroom but I refused their beckoning. It was only when my mother arrived that I knew that my hiding would soon come to an end.

"Isabella, what is the meaning of this? Why won't you come downstairs? Your delay has caused a most awkward pallor to fall upon your father and I, as well as our visitor. You must come with me this instant," she demanded.

"Mother, please," I began, my throat closing up. I was about to cry because I felt so lost inside. I had no way of knowing whether my future would be happy or a misery. My fate was simply left to chance. This intended husband of mine could very well be an angel or a demon. The uncertainty was nerve wracking. And here I had already drawn attention to myself where I needed to be reserved and unassuming lest I be thought haughty or worse—brazen. I didn't want to shame myself or my family.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my tears flowing freely.

"Oh, child," my mother sighed. "You mustn't be nervous. It will be alright. Your father would never approve of this marriage without making your welfare his highest priority," she said as she wrapped her arm around me.

"Mother, I was looking at him from my window and he saw me staring. I've embarrassed myself horribly," I confessed.

To my utter astonishment, my mother began to chuckle.

"My dearest girl, do you really think you're the only young lady who's ever been curious about what her intended might look like? No one _wants_ an ugly husband," she mused with a rich laugh.

I did begin to see the humor in it and soon I started to giggle lightly. My mother was right. My nerves had gotten the better of me and I was worrying needlessly. I had put too fine a point on something that wasn't of great importance.

When I was feeling composed again, I followed my mother downstairs and into the sitting room. My father and our visitor rose to their feet upon our entrance. My eyes were cast down, studying the pattern of the inlaid wood of the floorboards.

"Mr. Cullen," my father said. "This is my daughter, Miss Isabella Swan."

I lifted my head slightly and looked up. Standing before me was the man I'd spied from my window. All of a sudden the words my mother had spoken just minutes ago rang in my ears.

_No one wants an ugly husband._

An ugly husband was surely something I need not concern myself with, of that I was certain now. The very first thing I noticed was his eyes. They were a shade of green unlike anything I'd ever seen before—most unusual, so vibrant and warm. His face was true to his aristocratic bearing, with a strong jaw, long nose and square chin. I also couldn't help but notice his thick, almost unruly hair that lent him a rather boyish charm. In short, Mr. Cullen was very handsome indeed.

He put his hand out toward me, so that I could place mine on it. When I did so, he kissed the top of it ever so gently. His lips were full but very soft when I felt them touch my skin. The way his eyes closed as he leaned his head down and pulled my hand toward his mouth gave his face a serene, almost angelic quality. With my hand still on his lips, he opened his eyes and looked up at me through thick eyelashes, quirking an eyebrow at me. I thought for the briefest second that the room might be spinning.

"Miss Swan, a pleasure. I'm Edward Cullen," he said softly, bowing his head slightly.

I curtsied in return, as custom demanded. I kept my eyes down, lest I not be able to take them off him. I feared embarrassing myself again as I did at my bedroom window. Thankfully, the dinner bell chimed just then and we all retreated to the dining room.

Our seating had been arranged earlier by Mother, and I was situated a comfortable distance from Mr. Cullen directly across from him. The sun had begun to set, making candlelight necessary. I was glad for the dim, soothing light as it helped calm me slightly. I could hardly manage much of an appetite. I simply pushed my food around my plate, taking the tiniest bites and chewing them ever so slowly. I couldn't wait for the meal to be over. It meant that my father and Mr. Cullen would take in a snifter of brandy in Father's study and I'd be free to run back to my bedroom.

"Mr. Swan," Mr. Cullen began. "If I may be so bold, I humbly beg your permission to have Miss Swan visit my estate tomorrow, so that she may become acquainted with it," he said, looking at me rather than my father. I felt my face flush. This was indeed a most unusual request. An unmarried woman visiting an unmarried man would set tongues wagging, even if there was a betrothal between us—and there wasn't.

Due to the imminent nuptials planned, my father had suggested that the betrothal and vows be done on the same day, which wasn't uncommon when a marriage arrangement was under a time constraint. But although the details of my dowry and other financial considerations had already been agreed upon, none of it would be official until our marriage contract was signed. The banns would be read at our parish church starting on the coming Sunday.

I opened my mouth to protest but before I could speak, my father agreed. My eyes went wide in shock but I said nothing. Obviously my father didn't want to insult Mr. Cullen for fear that this would create discord and possible animosity. I was forced to swallow my pride but the insult stung bitterly. Before I could control myself, my eyes reduced themselves to slits as I stared daggers at the arrogant man sitting before me.

_Don't think for a moment that this entitles you to anything but my scorn, Mr. Cullen._

He merely looked back at me and smirked.

"Miss Swan, I shall have a carriage come collect you at noon," he said with an obnoxious air of authority. How dare this rake make demands on me like this?

"We do have our own horses," I informed him. Well aware that I was speaking out of turn, I did so nonetheless. I was being taken advantage of, and he knew it.

"Isabella," my mother said, her voice full of reprimand. "Mr. Cullen is extending a courtesy, we'll accept it kindly," she added with finality. I merely nodded my head. Decorum demanded that I hold my tongue lest I be thought impudent. I almost wanted Mr. Cullen to find me an odious, ill-mannered shrew. Perhaps then he'd question his decision. But my bad behavior would just reflect poorly on my family and disappoint my father. It was necessary for me to keep that at the forefront of my mind.

Dinner ended in relative quiet, my lapse in manners and my mother's subsequent scolding having created an uncomfortable ambience. Mr. Cullen respectfully declined my father's offer of brandy in his study, citing the late hour and needing to attend to matters at his own estate before retiring for the evening.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," he offered politely, kissing my hand again. I pulled it back more quickly this time and mumbled my goodbye back to him. "I look forward to the pleasure of your company tomorrow," he added with that roguish smirk. I didn't answer.

At precisely noon the next day, Mr. Cullen's carriage and footman awaited me at our front gates. I sat for the short ride in nervous anticipation. I had no idea how this man would behave, and frankly, I was frightened. If he took any untoward liberties upon me, I wouldn't know what to do. My mind and heart raced. If he were to act like a brute, what choice would I have but to allow it? It was too late now. I took a deep breath in an effort to steady my nerves.

Upon arrival at Mr. Cullen's home, I was greeted at the door by a young woman who looked to be no older than myself.

"Hello, you must be Miss Swan," she exclaimed happily. "I'm Alice Whitlock, Edward's sister, it's so nice to meet you," she said as she reached for my hand. Her face was so kind and friendly—her smile radiating natural warmth which put me at ease almost immediately. Inwardly I breathed a tremendous sigh of relief as I realized that my visit would be chaperoned after all.

The presence of Mr. Cullen's married sister provided ample propriety. I felt a rush of guilt at having assumed the worst about him and judging him so harshly. He had indeed been mindful of my reputation even though he hardly knew me. No doubt it was because it would only reflect badly upon him should I be the subject of gossip.

I shook Mrs. Whitlock's hand and bowed my head respectfully.

"Mrs. Whitlock, pleased to make your acquaintance," I offered, reciprocating her smile with my own.

"Oh, please, you must call me Alice, I insist," she offered. "We're to be sisters, after all."

"Thank you, Alice. Please, call me Bella," I offered back.

"Welcome to Masen Green," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the front door of the massive manor-house in front of us.

"You've changed the name," I noted. I remembered the estate as Covington.

"Yes, my brother felt like a fresh start was in order. Masen was our mother's maiden name. She died when we were children," Alice explained as a twinge of sadness settled across her otherwise sweet face.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I offered in a soft voice. Her expression once again became more jovial upon hearing my words.

"It's quite alright. She's been gone many years now. We do miss her. My mother was not like other ladies of her stature. She doted on us and disliked the idea of her children being raised by servants," Alice recalled with a smile.

I thought to myself that hearing such personal details from someone I'd just met should've made me feel awkward but Alice had such an amiable way about her that it didn't at all.

She took me on a tour of the house, showing me the new furnishings they'd brought in. Some were old pieces passed on in their family; others were new purchases from London and even Paris. It was all quite lovely and grander than anything one would find in our little village.

"I'm afraid I took the liberty of seeing to decorating myself, Bella," Alice confessed with a sheepish face. "I know as the new mistress of the house, this would've been your responsibility and I hope you don't take offense," she said. "I do apologize."

"Not at all," I assured her. "It eases my mind greatly," I added with a smile. The truth of it was that I had hardly any experience with such things.

My mother had tried in vain to pique my interest in such domestic pursuits but I always managed to either fail miserably or hide behind my father's overindulgence. He granted me free access to his library so long as we didn't have visitors, and I'd often spend hours hiding from my mother, clutching one of his books and reading under a shady tree.

I had a trousseau in a hope chest that contained my wedding gown along with some other pieces of clothing too fine to wear except on the most special occasions. My mother also made sure to include jewelry, linens, towels and china.

It was expected that I add my own items that would show off my skill at needlework and crochet but I never could learn any of these important domestic hobbies that most eligible young ladies prided themselves on. I simply lacked the adroit skill needed for such undertakings. I was, in a word, clumsy. My own mother gave up on me, her wrists aching from constantly undoing and redoing my work.

My academic education was also out of the ordinary. I was lucky enough to have been tutored by a governess whose father was a headmaster at a boys' college. She spoke French and the ancient languages fluently. She taught me to read the tomes of the ancient philosophers and historians—something a proper young lady would never do—simply because it gave the impression that she thought herself the intellectual equal of a man. It was scandalous. My father, bless his heart, turned a blind eye to it all, not wanting to deprive me of the obvious happiness I derived from reading and learning.

My thoughts are interrupted by Alice's lilting voice. She's taken me to the upstairs portion of the house where the various bedrooms were located.

"I thought it best to leave these rooms the way I'd found them," she said with a smile. I peeked behind the partially open door and saw a beautifully appointed nursery. She ushered me inside and showed me all the rooms, each one for a specific purpose: a bedroom, a playroom, a library for lessons, everything one would need to raise children. I felt a sudden wave of panic as I realize the implications. Living on a farm, it wasn't difficult for one to acquire the knowledge of how children came about. My face immediately turned crimson at the mere thought.

"Not to worry, Bella, it won't be as horrible as you think," Alice said with a chuckle, no doubt noticing my terribly obvious blush and wide eyes.

"How long have you been married?" I ask, hoping desperately to change the subject.

"Two years. My husband, Jasper, is an American. He travels back and forth between England and our former colonies. He's from Virginia, where his family has been growing tobacco since the time of James the First," she explained with a wistful smile. It was obvious that she missed her husband very much.

"Alice!" Mr. Cullen summoned, bounding into the room and heading straight for his sister. He didn't see me. "Has Miss Swan not arrived?" he asked.

"Yes," I say in a small voice, peeking over Alice's petite form.

"Oh, Miss Swan," he began, looking flustered. "Forgive me, I, uh, hadn't realized…" he said, his voice trailing off. He seemed mesmerized by the sight of me. It was most curious, as he assuredly did not react this way when he saw me just the day before. He ran his hand through his hair nervously and bowed. I curtsied lightly in response.

"Shall we have dinner?" Alice asked, sensing the awkward silence that had crept into the room.

"Yes, let's," Mr. Cullen replied hurriedly, ushering his sister and me out of the room. I couldn't leave that nursery fast enough. It was entirely overwhelming with Mr. Cullen standing right in front of me.

Our meal passed quickly, with Alice chattering away, relating stories of their childhood in London. It was evident that the two siblings were very fond of each other and grew up in a happy home. She told of how their father, Mr. Carlisle Cullen, had remained a widower when Mrs. Cullen passed on until his own passing just last year.

"Yes, it seems we're orphans now, brother," Alice said with a bittersweet smile.

"I am sorry," I replied, not knowing what else to say. I had no siblings of my own and my parents were my dearest companions. Losing them would no doubt render me utterly heartbroken.

"My father was a man of science and terribly bookish, yet he had a very tender side as well. He cared deeply for us, and for Mama," Alice explained. She looked at Mr. Cullen as she spoke and I knew she was really talking about her brother as well as her father.

When dinner ended, we took our tea whilst sitting in the parlor. I stared at my dainty petit four, wondering if I would ever get a chance to sit down at a simple meal with my parents ever again after Mr. Cullen and I were married.

"Edward, might I suggest you accompany Miss Swan in a tour of the grounds? I would join you but I have much to attend to before Mr. Whitlock's arrival next week," Alice said. I tried to appear calm at the prospect of being alone with Mr. Cullen but swallowed hard nonetheless. I looked pleadingly at Alice and she glanced at me briefly but pretended not to notice.

"Yes, of course," he offered politely.

"Miss Swan," Alice began. Manners dictated that she not use my Christian name in Mr. Cullen's presence. "I beg your leave, if I may," she offered. I rose to my feet. "It was ever so nice to meet you, and I do hope we become close," she said with a bright smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Whitlock. I hold the same hope," I replied, returning her smile. My heart fluttered as she left the room. I suppressed the urge to draw in a deep breath.

I looked down at my hands nervously, wishing Mr. Cullen would initiate our departure from the room and to the outdoors. Instead, the room just turned very quiet. Eventually I summoned the courage to look up and saw him studying me. His expression was almost one of sadness. Moreover, he looked disappointed. I felt an urge to say something but I didn't know what. Instead, I only tilted my head and smiled. He seemed buoyed by this and finally began to speak.

"Miss Swan, I hope you don't find this forward of me, but it is my wish for us to at least find one another's company to be tolerable," he said. I was perplexed by this. Perhaps I had made my reticence too apparent and offended him.

"Yes, I feel the same," I said, trying my best to seem earnest. The very truth of it, however, was that I felt this union to be purely an arrangement to keep my mother and myself from becoming destitute. Mr. Cullen appeared to be an honorable enough man, but I simply had no real impression of him. Most of all, I was just a girl, four months shy of my eighteenth birthday. I didn't even begin to understand my own emotions, let alone the emotions of a complete stranger.

"Very good," he replied, not appearing to be wholly satisfied by my reassurance, but he allowed the matter to drop regardless. "Shall we begin our walk?" he asked, rising to his feet. I nodded and rose as well.

The fresh air helped me to clear my thoughts as I listened to Mr. Cullen explain his plans for the estate. He wanted to try a variety of different techniques for planting and harvesting crops, some of which were new and developed in America.

"I've been considering building a conservatory for fruits and vegetables," he mentioned, his face deep in concentration.

"Oh, that would be lovely," I piped up. I enjoyed gardening very much because I'd often make my own preserves during the harvest months. I loved to cook, even though it was considered servant's work.

"Well, then, it's settled," he said warmly. We both paused our walking for a moment as we looked at one another. I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, his crooked smile and bright eyes making him look mischievously charming. I gave him a shy smile that I tried to hide but couldn't.

He raised his hand, and with the back of his pointer finger, gingerly stroked my cheek. At first, I started at his touch and felt my heart begin to pound but by the time his finger reached my jaw, I felt as if my insides were on fire. I found myself feeling a dull ache inside me, one that rapidly fed a longing for him to keep touching me, more and more.

I realized that the person I should fear threatened my good sense and propriety the most wasn't Mr. Cullen. It was me.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," Mr. Cullen confessed in a soft voice, watching my face closely. I bit my lip and looked away, desperate to compose myself. Never in my life had I felt such a strong physical connection with another person and frankly, it unsettled me keenly. It was something that gave me a great loss of control, and I simply didn't know what to do except run away.

"I think it wise for me to return to my parents, if I may, Mr. Cullen," I insisted, taking a generous step back so that there was a more comfortable distance between us.

He didn't reply, but merely nodded his assent. We walked back toward the front gates in silence, the carriage already waiting for me. Extending his hand toward me, I took it so that he could assist me as I climbed to my seat.

"I'm afraid I'll be leaving for London to take care of various details before I return for the summer. It is unlikely you'll see me until the wedding mass, and for that I apologize," he offered. I didn't suspect it at the time, but this was a decision made in haste on his part, brought on by my lack of enthusiasm for his company. Instead, I was certain that he must have found fault in me somehow and didn't feel it necessary to devote anymore attention to me than he absolutely had to.

"As you wish," I replied, my face crestfallen. I didn't understand why his disapproval mattered to me, but it injured me nonetheless.

We said our goodbyes and as the carriage ambled down the road I allowed myself one last glimpse of Mr. Cullen. When he saw me glance at him from over my shoulder, his eyes danced and once again he treated me to that same self-satisfied smirk. I snapped my head around to look forward again and quickly came to the conclusion that perhaps Mr. Cullen wasn't as modest as he seemed.

The next two and a half weeks were filled with seeing to various matters that required reaching conclusion before my wedding day. My mother insisted on taking a trip to Bath so that she could purchase fabric to have some new dresses made for me. Now that I'd be spending winters in London at Mr. Cullen's Mayfair residence, she thought it prudent to add some more elegant pieces to my wardrobe. She knew that once married, I'd never take it upon myself to have the dresses made, not out of modesty but from a complete lack of interest. My mother understood my mind better than most.

My wedding day arrived soon enough and from the moment I woke up that morning, my nerves were getting the better of me. I seemed to be in a daze as my mother flitted around the house in order to prepare for the breakfast feast that would take place on our grounds immediately following the ceremony.

I wore the dress that had been in my hope chest since it was made for me last winter. It was a soft ivory color with delicate lace trim with a veil that matched the same intricate lace pattern. My shoes were brand new and rather uncomfortable but the way they pinched my feet was a welcome distraction from my shaking hands and wild heartbeat.

I hardly heard the sermon or hymns sung during the mass and only when it was time to approach the altar to say our vows did I actually look at Mr. Cullen. He was dressed in a finely tailored dark tail coat with a patterned waistcoat, shirt and cravat underneath it. He looked every bit the dashing gentleman. I'd not forgotten how handsome a face he had, in fact, I dreamt of him almost every night since the day I'd visited Masen Green.

"You look beautiful, Miss Swan," he whispered in my ear. I smiled a 'thank you,' my mouth too dry and my throat too tight to allow me to speak.

After stumbling over my own name during the vows, we signed the church registry. Mr. Cullen signed first and then asked me to make my mark. He wrongly assumed that I could not sign my name. This annoyed me, though I tried not to show it. My pride got the better of me as I took the quill from him and signed my whole name with a flourish. I heard him chuckle behind me.

The breakfast was an elegant affair with most of our family attending from far and wide. I hadn't seen many of our guests in some time and so I was quite happy to visit and talk with them throughout the meal. I hadn't touched my food simply because I had no stomach for it at all. Many toasts were made, first by my father and then by what seemed like every male in attendance. I took a small sip of champagne with each one and before I knew it, I was seeing double.

When the music started, I wobbled onto my feet as best I could to have the traditional first dance with Mr. Cullen. He was my husband now and the thought of that started to make me giggle. The presence of alcohol and absence of food in my stomach turned my mind into a foggy haze.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Cullen asked as he put out his arm for me to take as we walked together.

"I'm very remarkably quite alright, Mr. Cullen," I said with a rather obvious hiccup.

"Dear wife, I've driven you to drink already. We've only been married half the morning," he replied, grinning like the devil.

"I was thirsty," I offered. This seemed an extraordinarily logical explanation to me, but it only made him laugh.

Thankfully, the quartet played a moderately slow tune which allowed me to keep a somewhat manageable pace. It was also very helpful of Mr. Cullen to practically hold me up like a rag doll.

"You'll need to drink as much water as you can possibly stomach or you'll be suffering an awful headache in a few hours' time," he instructed.

"Yes, milord," I answered, the alcohol freeing my tongue and my desire to be obstreperous.

He looked at me then, not angrily, but with bemusement. I was entertaining him, clearly. Leaning over, he whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling me. "When we retire to our rooms later, I'll have to give you a full physical examination."

My eyes went wide like saucers before I lost the ability to keep them open altogether and fainted.

I awoke not knowing how much time had passed or where I was exactly. I focused on the face in front of me and recognized it as Mr. Cullen. He waved a fan against my cheek, the air causing me to come to my senses. The last thing I remembered was something he'd said to me as we danced that was entirely too forward.

"Where am I?" I asked, feeling dizzy and confused.

"In the drawing room," he replied, smiling down at me.

"We were outside dancing," I said, trying to remember the last place I was.

"Yes, and you fainted. I carried you inside," he explained, stroking my forehead. Such intimate contact should have been unsettling, but it wasn't. In fact, it soothed me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling foolish. I shouldn't have had all that champagne without eating a morsel of my food.

"It's quite alright, you've nothing to apologize for," he replied, his voice reassuring and calm.

He helped me to my feet and we went back outside to join our guests once again. I returned to my seat at the large banquet table and made sure to eat. Mindful of Mr. Cullen's advice, I also drank several glasses of water. The festivities lasted entirely too long in my opinion and my feet ached toward the end of the day.

As the bridegroom and bride, Mr. Cullen and I were the first to be ushered out before any of the guests. My mother and father stood by the side of the decorated carriage that waited to take us to Masen Green. The servants had already seen to my belongings being brought over earlier in the day. The only thing missing from my new home was me.

"Be a good girl," my mother advised, although she sounded as though she were pleading. My sense told me she feared I'd be sent back to her, with Mr. Cullen's sound disapproval. She had a kerchief to her eye as she dabbed her tears.

"I will, Mother, not to worry," I said, hugging her.

"We shall see you for Sunday dinner," my father said, his eyes looking sad.

"Yes, Father," I replied as I hugged him goodbye and climbed into the carriage. I dared not look back lest I begin to cry myself. The home in which I'd grown up was no longer mine.

We arrived at my new home tired from our long day. Mr. Cullen retreated to his dressing rooms with the help of his valet, and I to my own with one of the maids. She was kind enough to draw me a nice, hot bath with scented oils. It was exactly what I needed to feel more like myself, both in body and in mind. By the time I was finished and changed into something to sleep in, the day was quickly coming to a close. A tray of light food had been left on the dresser and I picked at some cheese and strawberries.

My belongings still hadn't been unpacked completely and I yearned for one of my books. There wasn't a single bookshelf in my rooms. I always read at night. It was terribly unladylike but I didn't particularly care. I'd read until my eyes closed of their own accord. Usually my mother or the maid would come and snuff the candles out for me. I wondered if Mr. Cullen would mind my reading in bed or if he'd not allow it.

The maid who was helping me dress for bed had finished brushing my hair and begged her leave. I knew I could stall no longer. It was time for me to go into my new bedroom.

I entered the room and closed the door behind me quickly. Scurrying as quickly as I could, I dove under the covers of the bed without even looking at it. I lied down and pulled the linens up to my neck.

"Good evening, Isabella," Mr. Cullen said, lying next to me. I nearly leapt out of my skin, his voice startling me. He heard me gasp and chuckled.

"Did you expect to sleep alone tonight?" he teased with a laugh.

"No," I said defensively. "I just didn't see you there," I explained nonsensically.

"Well, that's a more favorable reason than simply being frightened at the sight of me," he joked. I noticed then that he was reading a book. This was most unexpected. I would've thought he'd have other pursuits on his mind besides reading.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes? You know, you really ought to call me Edward."

"My mother always calls my father Mr. Swan."

"How do you know what she calls him when they retire to their bedroom?"

"Mr. Cullen, it's not at all proper to speak of such things."

"Are you giving me a lesson in manners after you were drunk at your own wedding breakfast?" he asks with a hearty laugh. He did love to poke fun at me. It began to vex me horribly.

"I was, a few moments ago, attempting to ask you a question, if I may," I said, wishing he would be serious.

"Please, do," he replied, smirking at me.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm reading a book, of course."

"Why?"

"Because I find it quite interesting. Why else would I read a book?"

"No reason, I suppose. I do wonder, however, why are you reading it now?"

"Isabella, is there something wrong?"

"No."

"Very well, then. I'll carry on reading, if you please."

A few moments passed in silence while I stared at the ceiling. Shouldn't we be getting something over with? I dreaded the act that was expected of me, I simply wanted to be done with it. The waiting now became a sort of torture. I couldn't help but think he was either mentally incapacitated or physically deficient in some way and that he kept that fact hidden from my father.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Edward."

"Yes, fine. Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Isn't it customary practice when a man and woman are married, to…um…don't they usually…there's something…"

"Oh yes. How could I neglect it? I do apologize, dearest," he offered. He closed his book, leaned towards me and kissed me lightly on the forehead. He then promptly opened his book again and resumed reading.

By now, I was simply beside myself. Surely he knew what I was trying to say but I was too much of a lady to elaborate. I felt inordinately frustrated and embarrassed.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for the kiss goodnight but I was under the impression that it was common practice for married couples to engage in something a little more…involved and complex."

"'Involved and complex?' Hmm. I believe I comprehend your meaning. This 'involved and complex' activity, would you be entering into it willingly or out of obligation?"

"It is a wife's duty," I replied with complete honesty.

"Isabella, I am a gentleman. I shan't force myself upon you like a beast. I would only be interested in that of the 'involved and complex' if your desire for it matched my own," he explained with a smirk.

My initial suspicion was correct, he was mentally incapacitated.

I was not amused. He expected me to _want_ to do…what it was married couples did. I'd never discussed the issue with other ladies, so I didn't rightfully know if such a thing was possible. The only information I'd obtained thus far was Alice's comment about it not being horrible. I had no idea if 'not horrible' and 'pleasant' were the same notion or if there was a vast chasm in meaning between the two. I decided to give into my fears rather than my curiosity and not press the issue any longer.

"Edward?"

"Yes, dearest?"

"May I go to sleep now? I'm quite tired."

"Yes, of course. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

And with that, I turned my back to him and closed my eyes. It took quite some time for me to drift off but Edward's candle was still burning by the time sleep finally overtook me.

I woke suddenly, sitting bolt upright before my eyes were even fully open. I sensed even in my sleep that I was in a strange bed and in a strange place, but due to my slumber, couldn't remember why. It was still dark; dawn had not yet broken.

"Isabella, it's alright," I heard a voice say as I felt an arm on my back. I remembered now—I was married, in bed with my husband. The man who preferred to read a book on our wedding night. Perhaps it was because he found the book more engaging. Last night I was glad for his reluctance. But now I felt oddly…offended. Did he not find me comely? Did I not arouse his masculine urges? From the whispering I heard at ladies' luncheons and sitting in drawing rooms, I concluded that husbands usually sought that kind of attention from their wives very regularly. Did he find me lacking in some way? He said he was a gentleman but even a gentleman put his own needs ahead of everyone else's.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think me…ugly?" I asked in a whisper.

He sat up and looked at me just then. Moonlight filtered into the room through a gap in heavy drapery, casting a soft glow against his profile. His nightshirt hung loosely on his broad shoulders. Suddenly, I wished he'd stroke my cheek again.

"You are most definitely _not_ ugly, Isabella. In fact, I find you quite the opposite," he assured me in a soft voice, taking my hand in his.

"Last night…when you said I should desire your affections, I'm afraid I don't really understand. I can't rightly want something I have no perception of," I tried to explain.

"Was it not explained to you, how a man and woman come together?" he asked. He didn't seem surprised. Many young ladies became wives with absolutely no idea what awaited them.

I decided then and there to be bold and completely honest. I felt I owed him that much. I tried to explain myself in a logical fashion, exempt from any excess of emotion.

"No, no. I'm aware of the…um…physical dynamics required. What I don't appreciate at this point is _why_I should be interested in this form of…contact. Is it very much like being tickled? Or perhaps like having your back scratched when it is quite itchy?"

I could tell he was trying desperately not to laugh but simply couldn't contain himself.

"I'm glad I amuse you," I said. Exposing my ignorance to him was a mistake, clearly.

"Don't be cross. I'm sorry. It's just…your innocence in regard to these matters is terribly sweet. I laugh because if you only knew how much better it was than being tickled, you'd laugh as well," he explained.

He pulled my hand, drawing me close to him. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, I could feel his firm body against the softness of my own and it made my heart race. Very gently, he stroked my cheek, this time with his thumb.

I lifted my head and fixed my gaze on his face. He looked into my eyes and smiled lightly. Putting two fingers under my chin, he brought my lips to his and kissed me very softly. I felt that very same fire inside me when his lips pressed against mine. He pulled back and ran his fingers through my hair.

My curiosity, coupled with the intensity of the aching that began to build inside me, took complete control. Very hesitantly, I put my palm against his cheek and patted it. His beard was already forming light stubble and it prickled my skin. I studied his face as I did it, and noticed his eyes close and his breath exhale slowly. I gathered that my touch had the same effect on him as his had on me, but I required confirmation.

"Is it nice?" I asked.

"Yes, it's very nice," he replied with a smile.

"Good. I find that it's not horrible," I confessed in whisper, feeling guilty. He laughed at that.

"I should hope not," he replied. "Your body is doing what it's meant to. You ought not to feel shameful," he assured me.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked, my boldness astounding me.

"What do you think, Mrs. Cullen?" he quipped.

Putting my hands on either side of his face, I leaned into him and moved my lips against his. It started slowly at first, but the urge to move faster and press harder was a force I could not resist. His hands, so strong and large, ran up and down the side of my ribs gently. The sensation was indescribable as the heat and ache just grew stronger and stronger. I let out a soft moan almost instinctively.

My mouth parted slightly of its own accord, and when I felt Edward's soft, warm tongue on my lower lip, I thought I might die. I had to pull away because I desperately needed to breathe lest I faint again.

"There's no need to rush. We can stop at any time," he murmured. "I don't want you to be afraid," he added, brushing my hair from my face. His words were so kind and thoughtful, I thought I might cry. I hadn't expected to feel so overwhelmed and he was being very gentle.

"Thank you," I replied. "I want to…feel more," I whispered. He looked at me for a moment, as if he was deliberating what to do next. He smiled then, his eyes bright and happy.

He lifted his nightshirt over his head and dropped it to the floor next to the bed. He took my hand and placed it gently on his chest. Moving my hand slowly, I felt the contours of his muscles along his shoulder, then his arm and back to his chest. He laid down then and I continued to explore him. My fingertips grazed his collarbone and I let my hand drift higher toward his neck. I felt the bump of his Adam's apple, and then caressed his chin.

Feeling bold, I moved my hand down to his chest again, letting the flat of my palm rub against the ripples of his abdomen. Looking at him as if he were a work of art instead of an unclothed man in front of me made me less skittish. I'd never seen a man without clothing on before, much less touched him this way. But his body was something quite magnificent and beautiful. He was lithe but very muscular, his limbs long and sculpted. I couldn't find the courage to let my hand travel any further than his navel, and thankfully, he lay still and allowed me free reign to do as I wished.

"You're handsome," I said, my heart no longer able to keep my feelings a secret.

Smiling at me, he pulled me down toward him and kissed me again, very softly.

"I want to touch you now, dearest. May I?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper. I nodded my head. I knew Edward would be respectful and patient. I wasn't afraid; in fact, I was hoping I'd enjoy myself.

He sat up and gently pulled my chemise over my head as I lifted my arms up. I looked down at the bed linens as I felt my face and neck flush, my modesty getting the better of me.

"Isabella, you're the most beautiful creature I have ever seen," he said sweetly, lifting my chin so that I would meet his gaze. His head was tilted slightly and his lips were parted. "Truly, you are," he whispered, kissing me again. I reclined back, with him next to me on his side. His hands caressed my shoulders with a feather touch and instantly I began to feel warm, my skin tingling under his.

He planted soft kisses on my cheeks and neck, all the while murmuring how beautiful and precious I was to him. I found it all so intoxicating and wonderful, and I most assuredly found it to be much better than being tickled.

"Edward," I began, putting my hand to his cheek. "I hope I can make you happy," I said, not entirely sure what it meant to be a good wife to a man, but promising that I would try my best.

"You already make me happy," he replied with a smile.

"You should know," I began, my mind clearing for a moment, "that I can't sew or knit very well at all. I have a strong dislike for ladies' luncheons and would much rather hide somewhere on the grounds under a tree with a book," I confess, biting my lip. I hoped he wasn't angered by this. He would've been well within his rights to feel misled.

Instead he just looked at me and that same smirk returned to his face. He pulled me into his arms and I curled up against him, my head on his broad chest. We were skin to skin, and it was simply magical.

"Perhaps it's time for both of us to make our confessions known," he offered cryptically.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"When I came to your tour your estate at your father's invitation three weeks ago, it wasn't the first time I'd seen you," he said, his expression almost sheepish.

"Really?" I asked, my surprise clear on my face.

"Yes, I must confess, I'd seen you before. It was last year, in Town," he said, referring to London. I had been there just before Christmas, when I had my wedding dress made.

"Yes, I was there with Mother," I confirmed.

"I remember walking down the street to visit friends. It was bitterly cold out with ice everywhere. There were a fair amount of people milling about, coming in and out of the shops. As I attempted to navigate through the crowds, I noticed the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen exit the dressmaker's and walk towards me. She seemed lost in thought and I hoped she'd look up at me so that I may tip my hat as I walked past. But instead, she slipped on a patch of ice and fell. I put my arm out to help her up and she used it to right herself again. It was clear that she was mortified by her clumsiness causing a scene in the middle of the street, so she was too ashamed to look up at me. She merely whispered 'thank you' and quickly shuffled away," he reminisced as he stroked my hair.

I shook my head as he related his memory to me. I recalled that day quite clearly. I did indeed lose my footing and fell and was helped up by a kind gentleman whose face I didn't even at look at due to my embarrassment. I had no idea it was Edward's kindness and chivalry that assisted me when I needed it. But there were so many questions swimming about in my head.

"Were you surprised to see me again when you came for dinner last month?" I asked.

This time it was Edward who blushed and it was a sight to behold. His handsome face looked so angelic. I had to strongly suppress the urge to kiss him. When a shy smile began to creep across his lips, I lost my resolve and planted a chaste peck upon them. We both chuckled softly, giddy from the rush of the new, warm affection between us.

"Praytell, husband, why do you blush?" I teased as I patted his cheek.

"Because dearest, it was no surprise to see you again. I knew that I would, and I delighted in catching you, rather like a naughty child, stealing glances at me through your bedroom window," he said, very much relishing the opportunity to tease me back.

"Mr. Cullen," I began in mock scolding. "Do not undertake for a moment any attempt at changing the subject at hand. It does not go unnoticed, to be sure. The reason for the modest pink color in your cheeks, if you please, sir," I demanded with a laugh.

"Would that my rotten luck should cause me to befall upon the most cunning woman in England and take her for a wife!" he sighed in feigned defeat.

"Edward, stop teasing. I demand it," I said boldly.

"_You_ make demands on _me_? Not even married a day and already you give me reason to place you in a scold's bridle?" he joked, tickling me. I began to squirm and laugh uncontrollably. "I see there is no need, I can torture you sufficiently this way," he teased again. He only stopped when he deemed that I had begged sufficiently.

"Will you never confess the truth of your misdeeds, Edward?" I asked, wondering if I could ever get this devil to cease avoiding my questions.

"I confess it, dearest. I confess with all my heart that I fell in love with you that day I saw you on the street," he said in a soft voice before kissing my neck. "I had but one goal, and it was to discern who you were so that I may see your beautiful face again. I went into the shop from which you'd just emerged and paid the proprietor whatever money he demanded so that he may divulge to me your family name and from where your people were from. I learned your family was the Swans on your paternal side and the Higginbothams on the maternal side, both from an old lineage deriving from County Somerset," he explained with a smile.

"I was saddened to learn that you had no home in London. It seemed there was no way to ensure our paths would cross again. When my sister noticed my melancholy, she persisted in needling me until I told her what was causing me such sadness and disappointment. Being the nosy little mouse that she is, she managed to make discreet inquiries within the different ladies circles in which she regularly socialized.

"She came upon information regarding your family's lack of a male heir and that your father appeared to be the last male in the Swan line. When I learned of the precarious situation this placed you in, I simply couldn't bear the thought of it. So many horrible scenarios spun themselves in my mind. You could very well end up in the hands of some greedy ne'er-do-well who'd mistreat you, just so he may add your father's fortune to his coffers."

I felt a surge of emotion at the depth of his feelings for me. I hadn't an inkling that he cared for me this way. Frankly, I had only wished up until now that he would be of a pleasant temperament and I had no expectation of love or tenderness. In fact, I was filled with guilt over my hope that he'd simply ignore me so that I'd be left to do as I wanted. I fervently wished he would pay as little attention to me as possible, and now that I understood his true feelings, I realize how selfish I'd been.

This marriage was purely a financial arrangement—for me. I only wanted to save my mother from poverty. Marrying Edward was a means to that and nothing more. I never once considered his feelings on the matter, or that he was just a person like me, with a heart just as susceptible to emotion as mine was.

My eyes stung as tears began to pool around them. I was overcome, both over the insensitivity with which I'd treated the matter and over his extreme overtures toward me when I was a virtual stranger.

"Edward, I…did not expect you to have any feelings for me. In fact, I'd hoped you wouldn't. I simply agreed to the match to protect my mother and myself from being vulnerable once my father was gone. I've been so foolish. I am sorry," I said through my soft sobs. He hugged me close to him, shushing me as he wiped my tears away.

"Of course that was the reason for your assent. How could you love me? I was a stranger to you. You're not foolish, Isabella, you've quite a keen mind—in fact that aspect of you is what convinced me to dispatch my solicitor at once to acquire this estate on my behalf," he said, stroking my hair and kissing my forehead.

"Really? You don't find fault with my preference for books and study?" I asked.

"Not at all. You should know that we are more alike in this regard than I ever thought possible. Like you, I don't care for gentry life at all. I've no desire to spend all summer hunting and all winter in a smoky club drinking brandy and playing cards. My father was a physician whose strong sense of morals compelled him to help others, despite the fact that his family's fortune made it unnecessary for him to have to work. He raised me with the same morals. When my mother died of a fever that even my father couldn't save her from, I knew that medicine was my calling as well. I wanted to spare as many people as I could from the fate my family suffered as a result of my mother's passing," he revealed, his eyes looking so sad. I patted his cheek again, hoping it would provide him some small solace.

"When I learned that this estate had fallen into disrepair and the owner was in need of money, I rented it at once. I dispatched Alice to redecorate the rooms. When she arrived, ladies from all over the county sought her attention, as women are wont to do. A newcomer from Town piqued their interest, and soon she was invited to luncheons and garden parties. She was able to learn a little more about you, and mostly it was whispers about your lack of participation in society, how it made you an unsuitable match. There was also mention of your unconventional tutoring, that your father allowed for you to be taught Greek and Latin."

"I'm sorry," I offered quickly. "This must have been a great disappointment to you."

I was shocked when he started to laugh.

"Isabella, it was the furthest thing from a disappointment—in fact, it was upon learning of your intellect that I proposed purchasing the manor outright. Every hope that I held that you were meant to be with me became a reality. You see, you weren't just beautiful; you were my match in character as well. It was my greatest fear that you'd be spoiled; that you'd expect an idle life of leisure. I supposed I could have attempted to change you, but there was a strong possibility that it would only cause ill will and unhappiness between us.

"My parents were wed as a result of an arranged betrothal between their families. But they grew to love one another quite deeply, and I believe it was in no small part due to my father's expectation that my mother share his interests. He was shocked to learn that as a result of her upbringing, my mother could barely read. She only could make a mark, for she didn't even have the skill to write her own name. Every evening, he would read to her until she was brave enough to attempt it herself," he explained.

"I would love to read with you, Edward. I'd love for you to tell me about medicine, and science, and all manner of things. If you like, I could show you my favorite tree—I'd hide there and read to avoid visiting with company," I confessed with a laugh.

"For you, love, I'd plant an entire forest for you to hide in with me," he professed, holding my face in his hands.

"And I would gladly disappear inside it with you—forever," I professed back.

"Mrs. Cullen?"

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

"I've grown tired of talking," he said, raising his eyebrow and smirking at me.

"May I confess that I have as well?" I said with a bright blush.

He did not answer with words, but with a long, generous kiss that encompassed the beauty, the depth, the passion and the strength of our love for one another. It was a new love, but the bond was already there, growing steadily in both our hearts. Of that I was certain.

We both lay back down, letting our bodies demonstrate what our words already declared. I was no longer afraid or reticent in the slightest. I belonged to him now, and I gave of myself gladly.

I felt his hands glide all over me, slowly and with reverence. I gave a soft gasp when his palms grazed the hardened peaks of my breasts—not from fear but from pleasure. His fingers gently plucked at them and I moaned, unable to contain how his touch had ignited me.

"Does that please you, my love?" he murmured into my ear.

"You tease me at every turn," I whimpered softly in reply. He merely snickered before kissing down the length of my neck as I rubbed his back with both hands.

His hands continued their light tugs and pinches until his mouth replaced one of them. He licked my tender flesh, flicking it back and forth with tortuous slowness. I felt that same heated ache, but more acutely now. When his mouth enveloped my nipple and suckled it, my hands flew to his hair, making tight fists around it. I'd never felt such sensations before, it was as if my body had a will of its own, my mind no longer commanding it.

His hand slowly trailed down until it was between my legs. My breath hitched and I stiffened from the intimacy of his contact. My modesty could not be completely deterred, for I was raised to be a good, honorable girl with high morals. Such inhibitions would need time to dissipate.

"It's alright, love. Don't be frightened," Edward cooed, looking into my eyes. "Your body is a wondrous mechanism of nature. Simply permit it to function the way it was meant to. You lay with your husband, there's no sin or shame in it," he said with a reassuring smile. And with those words, I drew a long, deep breath and closed my eyes, willing my mind to be peaceful.

I felt his mouth return to my breast while his hand continued to venture further between my legs. I'd never even put my own hand where his was now. I knew not what to expect but it soon became apparent that the flesh that resided there was responsive and sensitive in the extreme. His feather light tracing with the tips of his fingers elicited the deepest moans I'd ever made. I felt my body produce a slick wetness as the sensations became more and more intense.

Soon I felt his hand apply more pressure which all but ignited every inch of me. His fingers moved in a steady rhythm back and forth, and I found the friction to be so delicious that my hips moved against his hand of their own volition. It was as if my body was winding itself up like a tightened spring as every muscle tensed more and more. My hips moved faster and I panted, feeling the sweat begin to sheen on my face. And then, I felt the most fantastic release as all the tension unraveled and rippled out of my body in wave after wave. I cried out as blinding white light exploded behind my tightly closed eyes.

"Edward, love," I moaned as my body continued to pulsate, until the feeling began to fade and I caught my breath.

I opened my eyes and brought his face up to mine, kissing him and murmuring my promises to always love him and be good to him. He returned the affection, both in words and kisses.

He placed his body on top of mine gently, leaning his weight on his arms and legs. With his hands, he carefully placed my thighs on either side of him and I hitched my knees to provide ample room for his large frame.

"I'm afraid this will cause you pain, my love, but it will only be this once. From then after, I promise to ensure that you only derive the sweetest pleasure from it," he said lovingly, stroking my cheek as he spoke.

"I understand, and I'll endure gladly for you, my Edward," I replied, speaking earnestly.

He nudged against me slowly, taking care to make the pain as tolerable as possible for me. My body strained against him, my maidenhead denying him access at first. He gradually increased the force of his entry until my innocence gave way. I felt a searing pain as he eased into me, but I was eager to give this part of myself to him. It marked the beginning of our new life together as man and wife. It was the ultimate expression of our love, and I would treasure it.

"So beautiful and perfect," he said softly, his eyes hooded as I felt him completely sheathed inside me. He kept still, no doubt waiting for my pain to lessen. After a moment, he slowly moved his hips against me to create that same friction that he did with his hand. Now I understood that with the absence of pain, this could be very pleasurable indeed.

He sped his movements after a time, letting soft groans and hisses escape his beautiful full lips. When I began to move my own hips along with his, I felt his pace grow faster. He growled loudly, looking right into my eyes. The intensity of his stare sent a chill up and down my spine—one that was delicious and intoxicating. I yearned to hear that growl and feel that stare over and over.

"Mine, my Isabella," he grunted, his face the picture of lust and wanting.

His body stilled completely and I felt him twitch as he released his seed inside me. He dropped his head on my shoulder, spent from his lovemaking. Kissing my cheek, he cooed loving words against my skin until his breathing slowed. I stroked his hair, enjoying the feeling of his thick locks against my fingers.

"I love you," he declared.

"I love you," I replied. "And you were right, husband, that is much better than being tickled," I added with a smile. Wrapping his arms around me, he growled softly into my ear. I gasped in response but also giggled flirtatiously.

"You have my solemn vow that I shall engage you in these 'involved and complex' activities as many times you'll permit me, Mrs. Cullen," he purred like a veritable demon.

"Mr. Cullen, I would never be a disobedient wife," I said back sweetly. We both laughed at that.

We curled our bodies together then, entwining them the way we'd already entwined our hearts. Soon we both fell into a most blissful sleep.

_My thoughts drifted back to the present time, when I heard the sound of horses approaching the front gates._

I kissed my sleeping granddaughter before snuffing out the candle and exiting the nursery. I made my way down the stairs and draping a shawl around my shoulders, pulled open the heavy oak door. Just then, a figure emerged from an elegant coach and I couldn't keep my gaze away, just like I couldn't those many years ago as I stood in my bedroom window.

"Good evening, Mrs. Cullen," he called out to me with a grin.

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen," I replied. "I gather your trip to Town was pleasant?" I asked.

"Oh, it was tolerable," he answered, approaching me and kissing my hand. "It would've only been pleasant had you been with me," he added with a raised eyebrow. Time had not daunted the devil in him one bit.

I took his arm as we retreated back into the home we'd shared all these years. We climbed the stairs together and I followed him to the nursery where he insisted on kissing his granddaughter goodnight even though she was already in a deep slumber.

"It's nice to see the grandchildren in the rooms our children grew up in," I said wistfully. "I shall miss this old place," I added with a sigh.

"I shall certainly miss it too, dearest," he agreed.

Edward had gone to Town to take care of the last of the details concerning our finances. We were moving to America, to join Alice and her family in Virginia. We'd been planning on it for some time, as Edward was eager to acquire properties that he could give equally to all five of our children—four sons and one daughter. He doted on Elizabeth, our youngest and only girl. We named her after his mother, whom he still cherished to this day. Our daughter was currently studying in Paris but would be returning soon to join us on the voyage to Virginia.

"Now, Mrs. Cullen," Edward began as he crawled into bed next to me. "Would you be interested in something…'involved and complex'?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Mr. Cullen, you're incorrigible," I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck.

**THE END**


End file.
